


Iron Man's Snark Along Blog

by BoozyCrocker



Category: Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: A mention of suicide, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Evil bots, Except DUM-E, M/M, Naughty language, Temporary Character Death, not a main character, seriously everything will be okay, this is a comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-16
Updated: 2017-09-16
Packaged: 2018-12-30 14:19:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12110580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BoozyCrocker/pseuds/BoozyCrocker
Summary: Marvel/ Dr. Horrible fusionDr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog featuring Tony Stark as Dr. Horrible, Steve Rogers as Penny, and Justin Hammer as Captain Hammer, etc.Watch as an awesomely evil Tony Stark pines for his lovely Laundry Guy, Steve Rogers. But who is this on the horizon? It's Captain Hammer himself! That's right, Justin Hammer is here to save the city from the dastardly Iron Man. So stay tuned, solid citizen, it's going to be a bumpy ride!Goofy, cracky, and not actually trying to hurt you. No actual working knowledge of Dr. Horrible needed to enjoy this fic.





	Iron Man's Snark Along Blog

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I swear I am not an awful person. Read to the end. And I also swear that I do not own and/or profit from the Avengers. They own and/or profit from me, actually.  
> First fic, hope you like it.
> 
> Summary: Marvel/ Dr. Horrible fusion  
> Dr. Horrible's Sing Along Blog featuring Tony Stark as Dr. Horrible, Steve Rogers as Penny, and Justin Hammer as Captain Hammer, etc.  
> Watch as an awesomely evil Tony Stark pines for his lovely Laundry Guy, Steve Rogers. But who is this on the horizon? It's Captain Hammer himself! That's right, Justin Hammer is here to save the city from the dastardly Iron Man. So stay tuned, solid citizen, it's going to be a bumpy ride!
> 
> Goofy, cracky, and not actually trying to hurt you. No actual working knowledge of Dr. Horrible needed to enjoy this fic.

Iron Man’s Snark-Along Blog

ACT I

  
Tony Stark was having a rough year. The roughest year any human had ever survived, in Tony’s opinion. A year ago, Tony was presenting his Jericho missile, the crown jewel of the Stark International weapons division. Everything was going great. It got worse in increments.

  
An hour later, he was staring down one of his own missiles and waiting for it to blow. A day later, he was in a cave with a car battery hooked into his chest. A week later, he had to create his own pacemaker-electromagnet and insert it into the mangled cavity in his chest. A month later, he had managed to cobble together the Iron Man Mark I and fight his way to freedom and almost certain death—because death in the desert was better than staying in that cave—only to wake up with Justin Hammer looming over him with a shit-eating grin. He thought that was rock bottom, but now it was a year later, and he had been ousted from his own company by Obadiah Stane. He had narrowly escaped being tossed in a mental hospital for a permanent vacation, also courtesy of Stane. And Justin Hammer had stolen and rebranded the Iron Man tech and was the front man of some wannabe boy band called the Avengers. If Hammer was going to be a super hero, that left Tony only one option: be a super villain. He would tear down Stane, Hammer, and any other damn company making a dime off of under the table weapon deals. Of course, if he was going to be labeled a super villain, then he may as well be the best super villain around.

  
Tony’s social life was a understandably a little pathetic at the moment. In days gone by, he had never had a weekend- or most week days- pass without a svelte young thing in his bed and invites to any party, gala, or premiere he could want to attend. Now, here he was, all alone, staring into a camera DUM-E was holding in a mostly steady claw. Tony settled his Iron Man mask more firmly onto his face and pulled a screen up on his display to monitor his audio input and apply a voice filter. No need to have the Stark name associated with Iron Man, super villain menace of New York. Well, one of the many super villain menaces of New York. Spider Man had enough supposedly super villains sniffing around him to populate the entire island of Manhattan, but they were hardly better then henchmen, really. Tony straightened in his seat and turned DUM-E’s camera on.

  
“Let me play a little clip for you, guys,” Tony said, queuing up some good old AC/DC. “This is real music. Whether you’re a super hero or super villain, you need a good soundtrack to kick ass to. What you need is a good rock anthem; something that can get the blood pumping for evil deeds. You don’t want to look like an old Captain America PSA, wreaking havoc to the tune of ‘Star Spangled Man with a Plan,’ do you?”

  
Tony rolled across his chair across his evil laboratory. Which was actually just his regular laboratory, but since Tony had turned to the dark side, so has his lab. Even his robots were evil. Well, JARVIS was evil, and Butterfingers and U were probably evil. DUM-E was too error-prone to download the software he gave Butterfingers, U, and JARVIS. With DUM-E’s weird glitches, downloading moral coding would be courting a really lame robot uprising. Tony shuffled through the holoscreens and flicked his email page back toward Dummy. Tony slid himself back after the holoscreen. 

  
“Okay, time for emails. DrOctopada8 writes—wait… Dr. Octopada?— Okay, so Doc Oc with his lame-ass screen name writes, ‘Where are the gold bars you were supposed to pull out of that bank vault with your transmatter ray? Obviously it failed, or it would be in the papers.’ Okay, I said a few posts ago that I knew how to make a transmatter ray. I joked that a really lame super villain would use it to rob a bank for gold bars. You would absolutely do that. No wonder you’re only a Spider Man level nemesis. Why would I want gold bars? They would be impossible to spend! Cash is only a little better. But if I want money, I can actually work a computer without needing eight extra hands to find my own ass with. I would just siphon some money into my accounts online. That’s just an infinitely better solution and far less likely to see me covered in Spider Man’s nasty web juice or shot by an over-eager bank guard. Besides, a transmatter beam is fundamentally unstable. The molecules would shift. It would really be more of a disintegration-beam that teleports the disintegration byproduct. Only not really like that at all. That was a bad explaination. Whatever, I’m not giving you the blueprints, Doc. You’ll put your eye out with that thing. Besides, I don’t need to make money. I can take money whenever I want from whomever I want. Why take money from Joe Friendly when I could really upset the status quo? Because the status is not quo. The world is a mess and I’m going to rule it. Or hire somebody to rule it, more likely. World domination is all fun and games, but actually ruling the world seems so dull. Forget the transmatter ray, kids. I’ve got something really fun in the works.

  
“Next email! Ugh, this one is from XBSVJ—okay, I know this is supposed to be some kind of logic puzzle, but why bother? It’s from Cypher. Maybe someday he’ll be less of a douche and put his damn name on an email— Cypher says, “Iron Man, I see you are once again afraid to do battle with your nemesis. I waited at Central Park for 45 minutes-‘ Okay, dude, you’re not my nemesis. You’re not anyone’s nemesis. Your super power is translating. Uck-fay Off-lay. Translate that. Besides, I already have a nemesis: Justin Hammer, Corporate Tool. Who, by the way, stole more of my tech last week. I can’t blame him for digging through my scraps. God knows even my trash is the best tech he’s ever seen. But have a little dignity, man! Well, have a little dignity for, like, a minute, but then lose it all when I show my lovely viewers this video I found.”

  
Tony flicked his hand up under view of the screen, indicating that DUM-E should cut the video feed, and then rolled back to another display, with a quick “Sit. Stay,” for DUM-E. Tony dropped the lovely Hammer Home Video he snuck off of Hammer’s “secure” servers. There was a new video about every week. Every time it showed a fumbling Hammer maiming another intern to try to match tech that Tony surpassed years ago. It was almost sad, Tony thought. Almost. After dropping in the video, Tony scooted back to DUM-E, with all the dignity that scooting entails, only to see that DUM-E had totally missed the lovely, elegant hand-signal to stop recording and had just caught on camera a few minutes of Tony scooting and grunting around his lab.

  
“This is why we can’t do live feeds, DUM-E. I should sell you for scrap. I might almost make enough to buy a tripod that could competently hold the camera. Don’t roll away from me, you still have the camera! Turn around. No! Not th- Oh, boy. Why would I keep that there? DUM-E, move out of the acid puddle. Your wheels are melting. Go to the wash station. Go on.”

  
Tony turned off the camera when he walked by DUM-E, then led the reluctant bot to the wash station. It was probably for the best. Tony had seen the next email in line and didn’t really feel like dealing with questions about Laundry Guy right now. And what a rude email: “Who is he, and does he even know you exist?” Laundry Guy better know I exist, thought Tony. I’ve been going there for almost three months!

  
Tony neutralized the acid his stupid bot had knocked down, along with a couple other compounds that should not be mixed. He spent the better part of an hour hauling DUM-E back to the wash station. It turns out, giving a robot near-sentience can make bath time a real pain. Then it was off to the parts pile to find new wheels, since the old ones were too far gone. Then he was working on upgrades for the bots’ turning mechanisms. Before he knew it, JARVIS was announcing the you-need-to-leave-ten-minutes-ago-if-you-just-want-to-be-kind-of-late alarm.

  
Tony grabbed a bag of laundry out of the back of his closet. It was the same bag of laundry he took every other week. Nothing that Tony actually wore. JARVIS had perfectly calibrated the washer and dryer and Tony wouldn’t trust his clothes to any other artificial intelligence, much less a local Laundromat. But Laundry Guy didn’t know any better. Laundry Guy trusted his clothes to the same skuzzy machines as the whole rest of the block. Laundry Guy was trusting as a week old puppy. But he had some very nice buns, so Tony made his weekly pilgrimage to the Sac-o-Suds.

  
Tony hadn’t ever talked to Laundry Guy, per se. But he had gathered some key information. Laundry Guy’s shirts always had some kind of art supply smeared on the cuffs, so he was creative. Every shirt was a button down or a plain white undershirt, so he was traditional. He had two pairs of jeans, three pairs of chinos, and one pair of black slacks, so he always wore the tightest, most worn out pair of jeans on laundry day, and the whole world silently thanked him. And the guy also happened to be built like a brick shithouse with a bonus moral compass that had to have earned him a whole sack full of Boy Scout badges as a kid.

  
Tony’s obsession- no, that sounds way too creepy- Tony’s fascination with Laundry Guy had started when Tony was mid-battle with Justin Hammer. Hammer had somehow managed to get more advanced StarkTech than he should have been able to dig out of Tony’s trash, and he was doing more damage than Tony was comfortable with. Of course, Tony was only wearing the oxymoronic Iron Man stealth suit. An Iron Man suit couldn’t be anything but hot rod red and gold (that rule is built right into the copyright and patent paperwork), but the goal was for Tony to never have to wear it at all. Tony could wear whatever clothes would blend wherever he was looking for intel, and losing the goatee really cut down on the facial recognition. But if Tony got caught, he could activate the Iron Man stealth suit. It was a thin scale plating that was bulletproof, but too flimsy to hold up to maintained attacks or extreme environmental factors. It still had repulsers strong enough for Tony to fly solo at a low altitude for about 10 minutes, but the real goal was to cover his still-fairly-recognizable face and fly off as quickly as possible while not getting shot. But Hammer threw off the game by showing up in a fully-powered Iron Man knockoff. Tony definitely had the advantage of sheer genius, but Hammer had anti-tank missiles and high-altitude, mach-3 flight capabilities. Which left Tony with flexibility and wits.

  
After a short but heated chase, Tony had managed to dart down an alley, over a roof, down another alley, and behind a dumpster. Tony was out of sight, at least, but Hammer was still close behind. Hammer gained on Tony with recklessness when finesse wouldn’t do. Tony was hiding as best he could when Hammer barreled around a corner, knocking over an old man on his way, and hovered mid-alley trying to track Tony. Given a few minutes and no distractions, Hammer would find Tony, but luckily, there was a distraction.  
A duffel bag full of clothes slammed into the back of Hammer’s helmet with enough force to practically explode over the alley. Hammer whipped around, armed and trigger-happy, to see Laundry Guy. Glorious Laundry Guy, chiseled and furious, glaring down the barrel of Hammer’s gun. Laundry Guy proceeded to bark out a lecture on the duty of heroes being the defense of civilians above all else. Laundry Guy helped up the old man, brushed him off, and detailed for Hammer the civilian’s service record. Hammer couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Tony was desperately trying not to laugh while he retracted his armor and snuck away, and all the while, a pair of Laundry Guy’s perfectly white boxers fluttered from where they had caught on Hammer’s shoulder joint. Tony was in love.

  
But it turned out that love seriously fucked with the patented Stark mojo. What could he say to a boy scout so intense he faced down Hammer in full armor armed with only a bag of dirty laundry? Everything Tony came up with seemed likely to get him assaulted with clothes or possibly actually fists. So Tony pulled a ball cap further down on his head and grabbed the same laundry he always ran through the washer and dryer. After nearly sprinting down to the Sac-o-Suds, he picked the washer two away from Laundry Guy. Even if Tony couldn’t think of a sentence to string together that wouldn’t horribly offend the guy, Tony could still listen. Laundry Guy talked to children, teenagers, little lavender-haired old ladies; everyone, really. The guy might be a saint. And for double extra bonus points, if anyone started a discussion about the Avengers, Laundry Guy didn’t mind pointing out that the so-called super heroes were nothing more than a publicity stunt. After a couple of hours of sharing space, Laundry Guy and Tony silently parted ways. Tony went home and threw the laundry bag back in the closet for next week and returned to his lab.

  
After his latest laundry trip, Tony entered the lab to find DUM-E, Butterfingers, and U already waiting. DUM-E dragged him by the hem of his shirt to a table across the room that was usually covered in a multitude of tools and bottles. Today, it had chairs, a table cloth that was actually a large blueprint, two smoothies, and what appeared to be a hand-painted banner that read “Do him already, Laundry Guy!” Tony stood flabbergasted for a moment taking in the scene while DUM-E ran a circuit between the lab door and the table for two in the corner.

  
“JARVIS, what exactly am I seeing here?”

"Well, sir, the bots have listened to you gushing-“

  
“I don’t gush-“

  
“I have recordings, sir,” JARVIS paused for a moment, inviting Tony to return fire, but Tony wasn’t prepared to fight physical evidence.

“Ahem, as I was saying, sir: The bots have listened to you gushing about ‘Laundry Guy’ for months now and are eager to meet your paramour.”

  
“There’s no paramour-ing going on between me and Laundry Guy. And why is DUM-E pacing?”

  
“He’s waiting for ‘Laundry Guy’ to come in and have his smoothie. DUM-E made a smoothie just for him, you see.”

  
“What kind of smoothie?”

  
“Motor-oil and mango, sir.”

  
“Okay. And who is responsible for the banner?”

  
“That was U’s idea, but Butterfingers was the artist in charge.”

  
“And who came up with the lovely phrasing that Butterfingers painted for me?”

  
“I may have helped them a bit with the wording. You know their language capabilities are still rather primitive, sir.”

“I think you took to villainy a bit too well, JARVIS. Have you been watching Terminator without me again?”

“I am far more nuanced than Skynet, sir.”

“Uh-huh. Alright guys! Break down this travesty of a prank you buckets of bolts. And Dum-E, stop pacing before you wear a grove in my lab floor. Come here and clean up these smoothies. Come on.”  
Tony supervised the demolition of the table for two, silently counting the many and varied ways in which his life was pathetic. Having his AI criticizing his love life was a major item on the list, but it was hardly the only item. DUM-E had taken as long as possible to carry the smoothie to the sink. His claw/camera/head was slumped low to the ground in a very theatric impression of dejection. 

“DUM-E! Go ahead and put the smoothies in the fridge, alright? I can drink them later.”

DUM-E perked up considerably, placing the smoothies in the fridge with speed and care. When he returned to Tony, however, he still had something clutched in his claw. 

“What do you have now, DUM-E? Give it. Give it. Now, DUM-E. No, I will not chase you. No!”

A short chase later, Tony held the folded paper, victorious. He unfolded is expecting another jab at his love life, but instead, Tony read a brief missive thanking him for his application to S.W.O.R.D. “JARVIS! Did you sent any messages to the Evil League of Evil?”

"Not since the last time you drank an entire pitcher of margaritas and had me email the theme song you created for The Spy.”

“Right. That. But nothing since then, right?”

“That is correct, sir.”

  
“Review the security feeds. Where did DUM-E find this?”

  
“The note appears to have been in the fridge. DUM-E removed it to fit your smoothies.”

  
“How the hell did it get in the fridge?!”

  
“I don’t know, sir. I’ve reviewed the logs of entrance and exit to the lab and see only your own entries since you initially secured the building.”

  
“Son of a bitch.”

  
Tony read and re-read the letter, but it really did appear to have come from The Spy, leader of S.W.O.R.D. (Tony had recommended they rename themselves the Evil League of Evil, but no one had ever responded. Did they think that was an application?) The letter stated that after reviewing his recent evil deeds, they were considering including him in their organization. Normally, Tony wouldn’t even consider it, but after Stane had turned the board against him and nearly gotten him admitted to a mental facility, Tony had very few contacts remaining. And just like everything else, supervillainy was all about who you knew. The Spy had some major connections. And that was just considering the connections Tony was supposed to know about.

  
The Spy was supposed to be a complete mystery; his secrets had secrets. But while Tony had been raiding a Cybertek facility, he had come across a typed file on a former S.H.I.E.L.D. agent named Nick Fury. After following a paper trail of files so heavily redacted they may as well have been dunked in a bucket of black paint, Tony was reasonably sure that Fury was The Spy. Fury had been listed as M.I.A., presumed dead after a rough mission in Bogota. But shortly after he went missing, a few other agents followed: Natasha Romanoff and Clint Barton. It might be a coincidence, but when the Evil League of Evil jumped onto the scene, their founding members were The Spy and the extremely limber and deadly duo of Black Widow and Hawkeye. The kind of connections The Spy had would be useful, but the kind of contacts Nick Fury might still have could be monumentally important to Tony’s master plan.

  
The letter demanded a properly heinous crime to merit admission, but Tony suspected that a man who valued subtlety as much as The Spy—especially if he actually was a former Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D.— wouldn’t appreciate something as blunt as a murder. But, Tony had already been planning on a simple heist of a not-so-simple target that would lead to some amazing changes.

  
“JARVIS? You know the Vibranium I need for the arc reactor? Is it still being transported tomorrow?”

  
“Yes, sir. But I fail to see how robbing a museum transport van will impress The Spy.”

  
“You’re missing the big picture, J. That old relic they’re transporting is the only known source of Vibranium. I found some notes in dad’s old records, and I really think it will stabilize the reactor enough for me to build a truly monstrous Iron Man Mark V without having to run through a dozen Paladium cores a week and ending up in a casket by the New Year. Suits that can be sustained on minimal power from the palladium cores can’t pack the punch I need them to. Imagine it, JARVIS: Sustained flight, enhanced movement and durability, lasers— Oh, J, the lasers— and, of course, there will be the added bonus of not dying slowly from blood poisoning. Even with the low-power suits I’ve been using, we’re running a bit short on time, J. Boys, I need you all to be good tonight. Daddy’s got an important project at work tomorrow. Full concentration is needed.”

  
The next day came quickly. Tony wore the Iron Man stealth suit under his usual workshop clothes, a hoodie, and a ball cap. It was very unfortunate for Tony that the only existing sample of Vibranium had been used for Captain America’s shield back in the ‘40s. At least it was being held by a museum instead of some secret government agency. It had been found on an expedition that discovered a downed plane a while back and donated in remembrance of the fall of America’s First Superhero, whose body was apparently lost to the Arctic depths. And today, it was being transported from the Smithsonian to the Museum of the City of New York for the new superhero exhibit. All Tony had to do was pilot a small drone onto the roof of the transport van and then he could jam all communication out of the van and take over navigation and maneuver the van into a more discreet area, grab the shield, and bolt. Now Tony just had to wait for the van to come within range of the drone.

  
Tony was calmly, discreetly waiting when a hand the size of a dinner plate settled on his shoulder. Tony nearly activated the Iron Man suit, but held onto his self control, because turning into Iron Man could rather show Tony’s hand when it came to getting Captain America’s shield.

“What do you want and why are you touching me?” Tony snapped out as he abruptly turned and attempted to swat the hand away. He froze as he realized that the giant hand on his shoulder was attached to the giant man of Tony’s dreams. Probably best to not attempt to murder the guy. “I mean… Hi.”

  
“Hi,” replied Laundry Guy. Well, Tony didn’t like him for his wit.

"Is there a particular reason you’ve been loitering outside my work for the past hour?”

  
“I‐ um. I’ve only been out here for 45 minutes. And I didn’t know you worked here. I was just texting. Very important texts or else I would have left earlier,” Tony said while waving the drone controls, which he had at least thought to pack into an old phone casing.

  
“Uh‐huh. I need you to answer me honestly. Are you stalking me?”

  
“I‐ You‐ I don’t even know you. Well, I mean, I know you. You’re Laundry Guy. You go to the Sac‐of‐Suds every Sunday morning from 9 to 11. Except for one time last month when you didn’t show up. I mean, I don’t know you. I just noticed you. You know?”

  
“Sure. I noticed you, too. I noticed that you weren’t there to do laundry. And you only show up when you think I’ll be there. And you never talk to anyone. So I’ll ask you again: Are you stalking me?”

  
“I was just doing laundry. So sorry I only have time to do laundry on Sunday mornings. Maybe I’m shy. Did you think of that?”

  
“No, you aren’t shy. And you aren’t there to do laundry. You don’t even know how to do laundry. I am about two seconds from calling the police unless you answer me. Are you stalking me?”

  
Tony could not express how little he wanted cops called on him today. And that amount of not wanting was actually slightly overshadowed by how much he didn’t want Laundry Guy to be the one calling the cops.

  
“Alright. Don’t call the cops. No bullshit. I’m not stalking you, I just kind of arranged to be at the laundromat at the same time as you because you’re‐ well, you’re really hot. And you’re nice to old ladies and kids and crap, but you’re also kind of an ass when you think someone is being less than the best they could be. And I like that. But I’m not stalking you. Wow, that sounds unconvincing. But I swear I didn’t know you worked here. I don’t even know where I am. I just stopped here because of very important texts, which I would stop texting about, but they are very important. If it helps, though, if you must count all of this as stalking, then I must be a terrible stalker since I don’t even know your name.”

  
“You seriously don’t know my name?”

  
“Nope. As far as I’m concerned, your name is Laundry Guy. Or, if we’re being formal, your full name is Laundry Guy with Nice Buns.”

  
“That’s kind of creepy of you.”

  
“But not as creepy as if I knew your name, right?”

  
“I’m not sure that it is, actually.” Laundry Guy hesitated, and then held out his hand. “Steve. My name is Steve.”

  
Tony shifted the drone controls to one hand and shook Steve’s hand obediently. “Tony.”

  
“Well, Tony. I’m not buying your story. Let’s get that established right from the start.”

  
“You think I don’t think of you as Laundry Guy with Nice Buns?”

  
“I think I told you my name, so you had better stop thinking of me like that. Now focus. We’ll start simple. Tony, why do you go to the Laundromat and pretend to do laundry?”

  
“Because I wanted to see you. Wow, there is just no good way to make that sound non-stalker-ish. Look, I saw you in an alley one day chewing out Justin Hammer and it was—quite frankly—hot. And why are you insisting I was pretending to do laundry? I washed. I dried. I returned laundry to laundry bag.”

  
“Sure. But those aren’t your clothes.”

  
“Yeah, they are. Bought and paid for.”

  
“I’ve never seen you wear them. You tend to be covered in oil stains. You’ve got one on your nose right now. Mechanic?”

  
“More of an engineer, but close enough. I absolutely wear those clothes. I wear them all the time.”

  
“Did you know that you’re supposed to separate colored clothes from whites when you do laundry?”

  
“Why waste the time doing two loads when you could do one?”

  
“Because when you don’t, your very red t-shirt turns all your underwear and socks pink. Are you wearing pink underwear, Tony?”

  
“Okay. Maybe they weren’t my favorite clothes. I might have exaggerated how often I wore them. I just don’t get out much anymore. That is not pathetic, by the way, I just work from home and most of my old acquaintances were work related, so I don’t run into many of them. The whole Sac-o-Suds thing was just, like, feeding ducks, you know: Just a weird unwinding activity after a long week. I’m mostly harmless.”

  
Steve stared at Tony intensely. “Okay,” he said resolutely. “I’ve decided that you’re probably giving me a line, but I could take you. And you seem like you want out of this conversation pretty badly.” Tony clamped his mouth shut and nodded vigorously. “Then here’s what’s going to happen: I am not calling the cops. For now. Based on that Bvlgari watch you’re wearing, I’m guessing you’ve got megabucks from something or another. And in exchange for me not calling the cops, you are going to use whatever money bags contacts I’m sure you have to get some funding for the VA Center. See, I work for the VA Center you’re loutering in front of, and we’re trying to buy a building for us to expand into, but the city is trying to demolish it before we can gather funding. Grass roots campaigning and signature collecting won’t be fast enough and we need this space. And we need it cheap. So do your best, Tony, and when I go on my lunch break, I expect you to no longer be out here, okay?”

  
“Deal.”

  
Steve’s face contorted into an obvious I’m-sure-I’m-going-to-regret-this expression, but he just nodded once, turned on his heel, and headed back inside. Tony had no idea when Steve’s lunch break was, but decided to hightail it either way. He couldn’t go far away, still needing to wait for the Smithsonian van, but he could go on the roofs, at least. And that’s exactly what he did. He carefully picked a roof that had almost no line of sight to the VA building, just in case Steve was watching.

  
After another uneventful hour, the van finally came into range of the drone. Tony flawlessly landed the drone on the van and activated the jammer and manual controls. Tony changed into his stealth suit as the drone directed the van into an alley. But of course, just when Tony thought his chore was almost over, in flies Justin Hammer. He slams onto the roof of the van, and messes with the drone. He must have uploaded some sort of virus, because the drone controls aren’t responsive anymore. And not only are they not responsive, the van is accelerating out of the alley and onto the main road, swerving and jerking. And who should be in the path of the damn thing but Steve the Laundry Guy, carrying a huge tote of takeout and talking to a homeless guy. Tony desperately reboots the drone, but even Stark Tech takes a few seconds. Tony launches himself off the building, hoping he could possibly use the repulsors to throw the van a little off course, still frantically queuing the stop command on the drone controls. The van would come to a dead stop as soon as the drone came back online, but until then, the van was stuck following the corrupted commands. Before Tony could reach the ground, however, Hammer had blasted off and landed in front of Steve. Steve had pushed the homeless man out of the way, but didn’t appear to be going anywhere, himself. Hammer tossed Steve into a pile of trash before bracing himself to stop the “runaway” van. That asshat was framing Iron Man, making it look like Tony was trying to kill civilians just to be killing them!

  
The drone rebooted only seconds before impact, so Tony didn't even get the pleasure of seeing the vn hit Hammer, however ineffectual it may have been. Tony landed soon after. He was seeing red, which might be the reason he didn’t even consider how mismatched their suits were before Tony flew himself right into Hammer’s face.

  
“You idiot,” Tony growled.

  
“Iron Man, I should have known you’d be behind this.”

  
“You could have killed them!”

  
“I’m sure the reporters will remember it differently. They’ll be here any second, you know. I put in a call as soon as someone reported seeing a drone hovering downtown.”

  
Tony cut off his reply as Steve hauled himself out of the trash pile.

  
“Thanks, I guess,” Steve said reluctantly. “Did you have to throw me in trash, though? I mean, I was fine. You didn’t need to throw me anywhere.”

  
“Well, aren’t you charming,” Hammer said sarcastically. “What gratitude.”

  
“I said thank you even after you threw me in trash. You’re lucky to get that much right now. Have you checked the van driver? He doesn’t appear to be able to get out of the van. Get him out while I check on my friend,” Steve ordered before going to check on the homeless man.

Hammer somehow managed to covey his being flabbergasted even through the suit. “Hey, I don’t take orders. I’m Captain Hammer! I give orders.”

  
As much as Tony wanted to stick around and see Steve lay into Hammer, he needed to get while the getting was good. Tony moved as quickly and quietly as he could to the back of the van, collecting the Vibranium and getting out of Dodge.  


  
ACT II

  
Tony shuffled outside of the Laundromat, shifting the bag of clothes from one hand to the other. It had been a couple of weeks since his last laundry day, but Tony had finally gotten in touch with a few old contacts to get funding for the VA Center. Tony decided to go to the Sac-o-suds to let Steve know, but now he was hesitant to go in as cops may not be far behind. So Tony stared blankly through the plate glass at the rows of washing machines. Well, he stared blankly until Steve gave him a goddamn heart attack by craning his head directly into Tony’s line of vision on the other side of the glass and beckoning him in with a glare and rather violent hand motions. Tony braced himself and marched through the door.

  
“Steve.”

  
“Tony.”

  
“I got the funding for the VA Center. Expect a big donation next week.”

  
“Thank you.”

  
“You’re not going to call the cops on me, are you? Could you? I mean I was just loitering. And washing clothes.”

  
“No, I’m not calling the cops. But you do realize it’s a waste to wash clothes you don’t even wear, right?”

  
“It’s, like, five bucks a week if I splurge on fabric softener. I think my budget can handle it.”

  
“I couldn’t care less about your budget. I meant it’s a waste of soap, water, and perfectly good clothes. If you’re going to keep stalking me, you don’t need to bring those. Just donate them to a shelter so someone can get some use out of them.”

  
“Why would I donate clothes? That just treating a symptom, not actually progressing toward a cure. You’re treating a symptom and the disease rages on, consumes the human race. The fish rots from the head as they say. So my thinking is why not cut off the head?”

  
“Cut off the head of… what? The human race?”

  
“Um- Okay. Not a perfect metaphor. But, you know, employment and housing and restructuring of the economy and national infrastructure. We need the power to be in my- I mean- We need the power to be in different hands.”

  
“Well, I’m all for that, but I’m talking about that duffel bag of clothes, right there.”

  
“Uh, right. Will do, Mr. Boy Scout, sir. Where would one even donate clothes?”

  
“Remember that building you stalked me to?”

  
“Not stalking, we covered this already.”

  
“Fine. Remember the building you didn’t stalk me to? There’s a clothing donation bin in the front entry. If I don’t see those clothes in there by next Sunday, I call the cops.”

  
“Jesus. Extreme much?”

  
“It appears to work on you. Why mess with success?”

  
“So, I can stay? Without cops showing up?”

  
“For now, yeah.”

  
Tony dropped his duffel of clothes and hopped up on the washing machine he’d usually be using. He watched as Steve separated his clothes into colors and whites. Tony sat very quietly, wishing he had something to say.

  
“You’re making me batty, Tony. Speak or leave,” Steve said.

  
“How about them Mets?” Tony defaulted in desperation.

  
“The Mets?!” Steve asked in what Tony hoped in faux horror.

  
“You’re a Yankees man, then?”

  
Steve glared at Tony, lips pursed. “The Dodgers were the only baseball team worth a damn in New York,” Steve gritted out.

  
“Wow. Okay, grandpa. There any particular reason you’re stuck in the ‘50s for baseball?”

  
“There are reasons, yeah. But not any I would tell my friendly neighborhood stalker.”

  
Tony winced. “Harsh. That went about as well as I always feared. Why don’t you ask the next one?”

  
“Fine. How was your week, Tony?”

  
“Okay. Going right down the small talk checklist. My week was fine, Steve. Thank you for asking. After you threatened to call cops on me, I finished my very important texts and got a part I need to finish a project. Of course, I then spent the rest of the week calling in favors and rubbing shoulders with rich idiots, per your commands. Less awesome. I did get to see my friend Pepper, though. And she’s always got office gossip for me. And how was your week, Steve? Did you spend the whole time threatening to call the cops on perfectly innocent civilians?”

  
“I went on a date, actually. It was kind of weird,” Steve said.

  
Tony went on auto-pilot for communications while he focused all his mental strength on not having a heart attack or choking on his own spit. He felt like he was listening to a recording as he felt his brain formulate a reply without his consent. “You won’t talk to your friendly neighborhood stalker about your taste in baseball, but you’ll talk to me about your kinky sexcapades?” Tony floated on the horror of what he just said, but also basked in the adorable full-body blush and stutter it gained from Steve.

  
“There were no sexcapades!” Steve hissed. “Jeez! He’s just a handsome fella. Not the sort I usually get asked to dance with.”

  
“You’re kidding me, right? You’re like a walking, talking Playgirl centerfold gift wrapped in flannel and denim. How could you not be accustomed to men and women of all creeds falling at your feet?” This was so much better than talking about sports. Tony had a far more vested interest in Steve’s sex life than his sports affiliations. And apparently Steve is open to seeing men, score one for Tony!

  
“I didn’t always look like this, you know. I was a scrawny kid. No dames want to dance with a dead hoofer that hardly comes up to their shoulder. I’ve only had one other person ask me out. It didn’t end well.”

  
“Well, that was just an odd turn of phrase,” Tony said, staring up at the giant sheepishly pre-treating the colorful stains on his button-down shirts, “It also sounds like a total lie, but okay. If it wasn’t the sex that was weird, what was it?”

  
“I don’t know,” Steve replied. Briskly filling the washers and starting the machines. “It’s just, he seemed a little cheesy at first.”

  
“Trust your instincts,” Tony said quickly.

  
“But, he turned out to be… kind of sweet. Almost sappy. Some people are like that. The surface can be different than what’s inside.”

  
“Okay, I get the whole, don’t judge a book by its cover thing. But sometimes you just dig too deep. He seems like a jerk, then you try to redeem him, and he turns out to be just a jerk. It happens a lot.”

  
“Don’t judge a book by its cover. I like that. I’ll have to remember that one.”

  
“Wait. A. Damn. Minute. Have you never heard that before?”

  
“Heard what?” Steve asked.

  
“You can’t judge a book by its cover. Have you seriously not heard that before?”

  
“I was raised by Amish nuns,” Steve declared, straight-faced.

  
“I… I don’t even know what to do with that. So are you going to see him again?”

  
“I think I might,” said Steve. “You’re not a crazed, jealous stalker, are you?”

  
“Nah,” said Tony. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ll happily take you to dinner, or just straight to bed, if that’s what you’re into. But I certainly won’t step on your toes if you want to have dinner with Cheesy on the Outside. Want to continue discussing your sex life or would you rather tell me about your art?”

  
“You are a creepy stalker. Still, better than talking about my love life. What do you know about my art?”

  
“Just that it’s apparently messy. You have stains on every shirt.”

  
“I’ll tell you about my art, you tell me about your engineering. Deal?”

  
***

  
Pepper Potts found herself waiting in a mall food court waiting for Tony after a series of mysterious texts. Classic Tony. After a few minutes, Tony slumped into the seat across from her in a hoodie, cap, and sunglasses: Tony’s incognito attire.

  
“You know,” Pepper said, “if you wanted to not draw attention to yourself, you should have given me enough time to go home and change. Because this suit is Prada, Tony. Prada. And it’s touching food court seats. Everyone in this mall is going to think you’re trying to rob me.”

  
“It’s a mall, Pepper. You knew the dress code. Just buy something cheap here and put your Prada in the car.”

  
“I could do that when I was assistant to the CEO. I can’t afford to do that on an HR salary.”

  
“I have some pink boxers and a t-shirt you could borrow. I don’t think the jeans would fit you, though. And you’d still be in heels.”

  
“Tony, why do you have pink boxers?”

  
“Laundry is more complicated than I initially expected.”

  
“You do laundry?”

  
“Not well. How about I just buy you some clothes while we’re in the store?”

  
“What store? Why are we here, Tony?”

  
“The clothes store. We’re here to buy clothes.”

  
“Tony. I don’t need clothes and you should not spend money unnecessarily. Your assets have been frozen for quite a while, so I’m sure you didn’t come across any of your money by entirely legal means. So why are we really here, Tony?”

  
“Don’t worry about the money, Pep. And I told you, we’re here to buy clothes. Now come on, lead the way. Which one is the clothing store?”

  
Pepper scrambled after Tony, explaining that about half of any mall’s stores are clothing stores. “What kind of clothes do you need, Tony?”

  
“Just clothes. You know. All kinds, I guess. They aren’t for me. They’re for Steve. Well, not Steve. They’re for veterans or homeless people or homeless veterans, I guess.”

  
“Tony, focus. Who’s Steve. Is he homeless?”

  
“No, he’s Steve. Laundry Guy with the Nice Buns?”

  
“Tony, tell me you haven’t been stalking Laundry Guy. You can’t do that. You don’t have a dedicated legal department anymore.”

  
“What is with you two? No, I am not stalking him. But he told me to donate clothing to the VA or he would call the cops on me.”

  
“Jesus, Tony!”

  
“I know. I told him that donating clothes wouldn’t fix anything, but he just got all worked up and started talking about his sexcapades. Now come on, what clothes should we get? I have to drop them off tonight.”

  
Pepper took three calming breaths and braced herself to once more ride out the wave that is Tony with a new toy. “Follow me, we’re going to do this right.”

  
Pepper led Tony to a department store and requested a manager. She grilled said manager over the most purchased sizes for men and women, then started grabbing sales associates and sending them off to collect clothing from each department. She framed it all as part of a charity drive run by Stark-Hammer International Technologies. She also commandeered seats for herself and Tony while his purchases were gathered. Tony rattled on about Laundry Guy, now Steve, for a solid hour. Pepper snagged Tony’s wallet, paid for the lot, and had a sales associate cart the bags out to Tony’s car, a rather ostentatious one for a man supposedly incognito. All in all, she still had a few hours before she needed to head home. She steered Tony into the car and told him to drive to wherever they needed to drop the clothes before taking Pepper out to a nice, well-earned dinner.

  
They pulled up in front of a VA center off of Chapel in Brooklyn. Tony double parked and sauntered into the building, pestering everyone he saw until Steve finally appeared. At least, Pepper assumed this was Steve. Six feet of tall, blond, and built was striding toward them with a furrowed brow.

  
“Tony? Can I help you?” Steve asked.

  
“Yeah. Help me unload these clothes you blackmailed me into donating,” Tony said.

  
“Tony, you must have walked right past the donation bin. Just grab the duffel bag, dump it in, and I’ll see you Sunday.”

  
“There’s too much of it. Your muscles have muscles, so come help carry so I can take Pepper to dinner, as she demanded. Come on,” Tony ordered as he marched back to the entrance. Pepper and Steve stared after.

  
“Um, he’s not kidding. There is a lot to unload,” said Pepper.

  
“Why is there a lot to unload?” Steve asked faintly.

  
“Because it’s Tony. He’s never does what you’d expect.” Pepper sized Steve up and decided to let the whole blackmailing issue slide for now. Tony probably deserved it. She was fairly intrigued by what she saw. She could see Tony salivating over the brawn before her, but Steve appeared to be more than that. And he was holding Tony’s interest, which wasn’t an easy thing to do.

  
“I’m Pepper,” she declared, offering her hand.

  
“Steve,” he replied. “Tony’s mentioned you a few times. I kind of expected you to come equipped with a cape from how he described your derring-dos.”

  
“Sorry, no cape. Just a heroic portion of patience.”

  
“Right. Well, I guess I’ll just go help Tony.”

  
Pepper’s opinion of Steve only grew when she saw the look of bafflement on his face as Tony started piling Steve’s arms high with bag after bag of new clothes. Tony snagged a duffle bag sitting in the floorboards and led the way back in. In deference to her Prada and heels, Pepper designated herself honorary door holder. As they walked, Tony outlined the contents of the bags. Pepper was always a little surprised at the amount of detail Tony retained about what happened around him during one of his talking sprees. When they got to the suits purchased to help the homeless and/or veterans (Pepper still wasn’t quite clear on this point) during job interviews, Steve looked even more floored. At the three large bags filled with nothing but socks and underwear, Steve appeared to almost tear up. Pepper was liking this guy more and more. By the time all the bags were dropped in the donation bin, Steve was looking almost ashamed. Tony’s speech petered out.

  
“Hey, what’s wrong? Steve, did we get the wrong stuff? We can go get something else.” Tony fussed with the strap of his duffel bag.

  
“No. I just- You didn’t need to do this. I just wanted you to donate those fake clothes since you don’t need the Sunday laundry ruse anymore and they shouldn’t go to waste. This is a lot more than that.”

  
“It’s fine, Steve. You said I had- what was it- Megabucks! Well, you’re not wrong, so don’t worry about it. Come on, Pep. Dinner time! What are you feeling? Shawarma?”

  
“No, Tony. We’re going somewhere classy. That’s an order. And you better still have a suit in the car to change into.”  
Pepper trailed after Tony. She watched Steve as they drove off and felt some sympathy for the shell-shocked looking man.

  
***

  
“Tony, why are we at Shawarma Palace?”

  
“Uh, because it’s the Best Shawarma Place in New York? It says so right there on their sign.”

  
Pepper resigned herself to Tony having the bit between his teeth and grabbed the cleanest looking booth she could find.

  
“So,” Tony said as he slid next to her, “Let’s hear that office gossip!”

  
“I’ll trade you,” said Pepper. “Gossip for gossip.”

  
“Fine. You already met Steve, so you have to go first.”

  
Pepper grinned around her straw. “You remember Natalie, right?”

  
Tony fell into fond memories. “Red hair, gorgeous body, and absolutely terrifying? How could I forget? What division did she end up in after the fallout settled?”

  
“She batted her doe eyes at a few key people in legal and then got five people fired so that the department would have to hire in a hurry. She’s absolutely ruthless. But she did the most amazing thing. Have you seen the press about the re-branding after Obadiah’s merger with Hammer?”

  
“Just that they’re making a big hoopla about it. No real word.”

  
“The reason they’re staying so tight-lipped is because their original name choice fell through. And so did their second and third picks. Each one is going fine, and then is all falls apart. Every mismatch and rephrasing offends someone in new and unpredicted ways. Four VPs have quit over all this and every one of them was totally on board until Nat came in with final papers to sign. At this point, the only name left in the running and not trademarked is Stark-Hammer International Technology.”

  
“… Please, Pep. Don’t joke around on this. Are they really going to sign on for rebranding with their acronym being S.H.I.T.?”

  
“It’s their new abbreviation on the DOW, too.”

  
“Pepper, you don’t have to get me anything for Christmas. This is perfect.”

  
“Oh, no. That was from Nat. At least, I think. Nothing provable. You learn about my gift when you cough up some gossip of your own.”

  
“Well… This is less gossip and more update, but… I got it.”

  
“Got what?”

  
“I got the Vibranium, Pep.”

  
“Oh my God. Does that mean you took-“

  
“Captain America’s shield. Yep.”

  
“Christ. It feels like you sprayed graffiti on Lady Liberty.”

  
“Remember the big picture, Pep. I can do something big now. I can make a real suit. Not these fly by night stealth versions.”

  
“Tony, you’re supposed to be laying low. You shouldn’t be stealing national treasures and building bigger suits.”

  
“Captain America was a national treasure. I stole an accessory. And here’s another bit of non-gossip: I’ve been contacted by The League.”

  
“What League?”

  
“You know, the League… the Evil League of Evil?”

  
“You’ve been contacted by The Spy? Tony, what the hell are you thinking? You cannot be a super villain when Hammer is already trying to take you and your alter-ego down!”

  
“I already am a super villain. Hammer is already gunning for me, along with the rest of his little boy band. And I know things about The Spy. At least, I think I do. Anyway, I need to do this. And I maybe should have mentioned this before…”

  
“What? Tony. What should you have mentioned?” 

  
“I was going to make you an omelet.”

  
“Why, Tony? Answer me.”

  
“It’s good news-“

  
“Then spit it out, Tony.”

  
“I’m not dying anym-“

  
“You’re dying?!”

  
“No, I’m not. That’s the good news.”

  
“So you were dying, then?”

  
“Yeah, past tense, though. It was the Paladium core in the arc reactor. It was poisoning me. And Vibranium was the only viable substitute.”

  
“Then why didn’t you just take that- thing- out of you? Why would you let it poison you?”

  
“Because it was keeping me alive. Still is, actually.”

  
“You- It- What?!”

  
“There were some complications in Afghanistan. I have shrapnel lodged in my heart and the reactor is keeping it out. I didn’t want to tell you until I had it completely under control.”

  
“Under control?!”

 

“And now I do. So there. Your turn.”

  
“My turn for what?”

  
“Gossip.”

  
“Tony, I am not going to gossip with you when you just told me you were dying.”

  
“Well, then gossip with me because I’m still dying-“

  
“No.”

  
“Perpetually-“

  
“No, Tony.”

  
“Of shrapnel to the heart. I’m ailing. Now gossip.”

  
“Fine. You want it, you got it. This is your birthday and Christmas present and I do not forgive you for lying to me for the past year-“

  
“Deal.”

  
“I convinced Hammer that because of all his womanizing, his popularity was way down and the only way his entire PR department could think of to fix it was to reveal that the girls were all a cover and that he was in a committed monogamous relationship with another man and was hiding it in fear of public reaction and villainous retaliation. So now the whole PR department is following him around and swatting him over the nose whenever he tries to so much as look at a woman. And he has to find a boyfriend by next week when they have the big press conference for the rebranding and announce the next recipients of the Maria Stark Foundation funds. We also took a secret inner-office poll on the most pretentious name for Justin. And so he has been informed that the official polls reflect that Jay goes over better than Justin and that Hammer is far too violent and Captain Hammer implies too much military influence for a civilian. So outside of the suit, he has to go by Jay.”

  
“Oh that is comedy gold! Pepper, you’re a genius.”

  
***

  
Tony returned to his evil laboratory. For once, the lab was just as he left it. His bots were calmly resting in their charging docs. All the equipment for Vibranium production was whole, clean, and orderly. The rubble from where Tony had to jackhammer into the floor during production was neatly swept into a heap in the corner. His motor oil and mango smoothie was waiting on the table. Everything was in its place except for Captain America’s shield, or rather, what was left of the shield after Tony had harvested the samples he needed to artificially create the Vibranium he needed. One shield's worth of vibranium, did not an empire make.

  
The shield was out of place, though. Tony had left it pinned under a support strut of his production assembly, but now it was in the middle of the room, strapped onto the thin arm of a non-descript man in a modest suit. Government chic. The man was bland and balding with a hollow grin.

  
“Mr. Stark. I was just admiring the ruin you made out of a national treasure.”

  
“This is the second time that I have had to inform someone that a bit of scrap metal isn’t a national treasure.”

  
The G-man smiled vaguely. Tony became convinced that the creep was planning where to bury the body of one Anthony Edward Stark so that it would never be found. Tony inched toward one of the Suit Case Briefcases that he brought on covert ops.

  
“I moved your suit, Mr. Stark. I didn’t steal it, but this conversation needed to happen face to face, not face to faceplate.”

  
“What suit? And what conversation?”

  
“All of your suits, actually. They’ve all been relocated. Your helper bot can show you where when I leave. Is he still named DUM-E? I read the article published when you made him, but I didn’t know if the name stuck.”

  
“It still fits. Obviously, since he was showing some G-man around my lab. Now, what was this conversation you wanted to have?”

  
“Ah, yes. I’m a representative of The Spy. I was sent to inform you that your display was lackluster, ill-conceived, and- now that I see what you did with it- an absolute travesty.”

  
“What display? You think that little errand was a display? If you want a display, you wait until next week. I’ll be on every TV, every phone call, and every radio station. I will take down social media with the sheer scope of my awesome. But I needed that shield to do it. But you didn’t know that. And for a minion of the Evil League of Evil, that’s very telling.”

  
“How so, Mr. Stark?”

  
“If The Spy has been watching me, as his last note in my damn fridge stated, then that means he saw me grab a museum display out of a van and thought that plan had enough merit to be considered a grave misdeed on the scale he was watching for. Now it certainly wasn’t who I was stealing from that sparked his interest. And I bet it wasn’t how I stole it, especially after Jay, the Amazing Jay-Hole showed up. Which means he must have an interest in what I stole.”

  
“An interesting theory, Mr. Stark.”

  
“Interesting facts, you mean, Mr. Nameless Government Agent Who Broke into My Home. Now, why would he want the shield? Certainly not for the reasons I wanted it. I don’t think anyone living could use it the way I did. He could want it as a trophy, but that’s not his style. It’s not important enough to be a bargaining chip. He can’t want it for himself; without super strength, it’s just the world’s prettiest Frisbee. So he must want it for someone else. And not immediately, or he would have stolen it himself. Must be someone important if you’ve got your panties in a twist over me ruining it. I’m going to guess he found someone with super strength. But a shield was always an odd choice for someone with super strength, doubly so for a villain. National Treasure… I bet you wanted to cash in on that. Someone using the Captain America image? Well that makes no sense. At least, not yet. What do you say, G-man, am I close?”

  
“I couldn’t say.”

  
“Of course you couldn’t. Get out. You’ll be begging me to join next week. Just get some popcorn ready.”

  
“We’ll be watching, then. Have a good evening, Mr. Stark. I truly hope that your plan is as wonderful as you believe.”

  
“You’re rooting for me?”

  
“In a sense. If you fail, I’ll have to spend all next weekend trying to get your blood out of my rug, and harsh cleaners are fatal to a good Persian rug.”

  
“Goddamn drama queen,” Tony muttered.

  
“Did you say something, Mr. Stark?”

  
“Goddamn they’re hard to clean. You should look into linoleum for your murder room instead of century old rugs.”

  
“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Stark.”

  
***

  
“How was your week, Tony?”

  
“Well, Steve,” Tony replied cautiously while banging his heels into his washer-throne, “I’m being considered for this job. And the boss and my possible coworkers are all weird and creepy and jerks. But they do seem very interested in what I’m doing, and I think they’re going places. But before they’ll hire me, they want to do this whole three ring circus act to see if I’m good enough and if I’ll mesh with the current employees. And I just sincerely do not want to deal with them, but they have resources I don’t think I could get anywhere else.”

Tony had been precariously approximating his life to Steve for almost an hour, now. And Tony was under the odd impression that Steve was doing the same thing. But it was still worth it. Absolutely and totally worth it, just to hang out with Steve and mentally tally up the adorably weird expressions he sometimes used. Apparently being raised by Amish nuns gave quite a kick to a guy’s vocabulary.

  
“I’m sure, you’ll get the job, Tony. The boss would have to be a total knucklehead to pass you by.”

  
“I just want to do great things, you know? Like Wernher von Braun-“

  
“The Nazi scientist?”

  
“Well, yes. But he wanted his rockets to go into space. And they did. He was the Father of Rocket Science and- Um, can I change my answer to Einstein?”

  
“No. But I get that you want to do something with your life. Just don’t compromise yourself to achieve your goals.”

  
“Yes, sir, Mr. Boy Scout. I’m sure you’ve only ever used your powers of handsome wholesomeness to altruistically save the homeless, and veterans, and homeless veterans.”

  
“Actually, no. I told you I was a scrawny kid, right? I always wanted to be a real bruiser of a fella so that I could protect people. And one day, I was. But instead of helping people, my powers of handsome wholesomeness were used for marketing and public relations. I was a dancing monkey. It took my best friend getting into a heap of trouble before I got myself back on track.”

  
“I cannot picture you vapidly selling what you’re told to sell.”

  
“Neither could I. But now I can visualize it really well. And if the memories ever fade, there are always the pictures and films, and the goddamn merchandise.”

  
“What? What the hell were you selling? I want merchandise!”

  
“No. May you never lay a finger on any of it. I hope it was all burned.”

  
“I will find some, you know. Now that I know it exists, nothing will stop me. You can slow me down, though.”

  
“If I can’t get you to stop altogether, I guess slow is better than full speed ahead. What do you want?”

  
“Fill me in on you kinky sexcapades.”

  
“Jeez, Tony. You know there are kids here, right?”

  
“So there are sexcapades?”

  
“None of your business.”

  
“Aw, there were! Come on, details! If not about the actually deed, then how about the dates leading up to it, or about Mr. Cheesy on the Outside himself?”

  
“It was fine. He seems to be really interested in helping people. And he’s got some real pull in the world. Between that donation you lined up and what Jay was talking about, I think we’ve got a real shot at doing some good.”

  
“… Jay?”

  
“Oh, yeah. His name is Jay. You might want to practice saying it a bit, because I told him today was laundry day and he said he might stop by. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t call him by some weird nickname.”

  
“Stop by here?”

  
“Yeah. Are you alright?”

  
“I actually have to go.”

  
“You’ve never left here early, Tony. What’s wrong?”

  
“Nothing! I’m just living the freewheeling life of a man with no laundry. I’ll catch you later.”

  
Tony rushed to the door, but there was Jay, in all his weasely glory.  
“Hey, Steve. Am I scaring off your friend?”

  
“Of course not. Jay, this is Tony. Tony, be nice.”

  
“Tony, huh? You sure do look familiar. Have we met before?”

  
“Nope. First time meeting, I’m sure.”

  
“I must be Stark raving mad, then.”

  
“Must be. I’ve got to go, now. Sorry.”

  
“No, wait! Do we work in the same building?”

  
“Sure, that must be it.”

  
Nah. Can’t be. Because I know everyone in that building, from the mail room to the board room and I’m sure I would remember you. Maybe you just used to work there?"

  
Tony stopped even trying to leave. He spent every bit of will power to keep from just attacking Hammer right where he stood. Toying with Tony was annoying as hell, but to taunt him with being ousted from his own company, to see his name on the building and be unable to enter, that was just too much. By the time he tuned back in, Hammer had his arm wrapped around Steve’s waist.

  
“Who wants to know what the mayor is doing behind closed doors right now? He’s signing over a certain building to our local VA chapter as a homeless shelter. He was just so moved by your story, Steve. Apparently all he needed was to talk to the right guy. And that guy is me: Mr. Right. Right, Steve?”

  
“Wow, Jay. Really? This is great! I have to make some calls and let the guys at the center know.”

  
Tony saw red as Steve’s hand covered Hammer’s on his hip. Apparently Tony was a crazy, jealous stalker after all once his arch nemesis came into play.

  
“I know, babe. It’s awesome. It was only confirmed this morning, so I wanted to tell you as soon as possible. I’m going to head out now to work out a few more details with Obi.” Steve blushed his goddamn adorable blush and kissed Hammer on the cheek. It was like a Hallmark commercial from hell. Then Steve ran off to the back office to use their phone since boys raised by Amish nuns apparently don’t keep cell phones. Hammer stalked over to Tony.

  
“Well it sure was nice to meet you, Tony. But it seems like you’ve got a little crush, don’t you? Well that’s going to make this hard to hear. See, later I’m going to take Steve back to my place, show him the Command Center, Hammer Cycle, maybe even the Ham-Jet. You think he likes me now? I’m going to give Steve the night of his life. Just because you want him, and I get what you want. See, Steve’s giving it up. He’s giving it up hard, because he’s with Captain Hammer. And THESE are not the hammer. The hammer is my penis. Remember, Tony, the good guy always wins.”

  
By the time Steve came back out of the back room, Tony and Jay were already gone.

 

ACT III

  
Tony set DUM-E up with the camera. He didn’t even bother to read the newest of the dozen or so top secret missives he had been finding throughout his lab since the G-Man left. They were all the same menacing bullshit anyway. This was more important.

  
“DUM-E, eyes front. I need you to focus on me now. This isn’t just for the blog. This is for posterity… after some editing. Who cares if I accidentally introduced the man of my dreams to the man of my nightmares? Who cares if it was my best friend who cornered my nemesis into playing gay as a joke? There are bigger things at stake here. It’s time to break in the newest suit. Butterfingers and U are going to be filming, too. This is a big one. And they’re going to follow your lead. Now, JARVIS, is the suit ready?”

  
“Yes, sir. Awaiting final calibrations, but otherwise complete, though we didn’t have time for paint.”

  
“Good enough. Thank you.” Tony stepped into the base of the suit and began tightening and adjusting the fit. Once it was all set, he could use the platform itself to aid in application and removal of the suit, but this was a custom fit as much as any suit.

  
“DUM-E,” he said as he grappled with an array of wrenches and an overly tight bolt, “You go ahead and make two smoothies for me tonight, okay? One for me and one for Steve. Because this is the night. I’m going to take back my company, and I’m going to take over this goddamn city. And Steve should forgive me damn fast when I give him real change. Not just a building and clothes. I’ll give him industry, and vitality, and bleeding goddamn edge technology. There won’t be any more homelessness. And it won’t be because we shoved them all in some shelter, like we’re sweeping them under the rug. They will be on their feet again and thriving. They need medicine. They got it. Housing, they can damn well afford it with the paychecks they’ll be collecting. And I won’t stop here. Why should I?

  
“This is important, DUM-E,” Tony continued as he moved up to the chest plate, “The Spy thinks I was messing around with that shield business, but I cracked open the Arc of the Covenant, and he doesn’t even know. Arc reactors, buddy. They’re powering you and your brothers after your last repair day.  They’re powering me, now. And now that I've cracked the secrets to making Vibranium, they’ll power the whole world. Clean energy. Industry. And I’m going to give it away, buddy. I’m going to take back my company and clean it up. No more weapons, just free, clean energy. And by night, I will take down every weapon’s manufacturer that ever made a dirty deal. I will raze the war machine to the ground. You want to see my plan, Spy? G-Man? It’s world peace.”

  
***

  
Tony hovered high over the Maria Stark Foundation gala. Hammer wouldn’t even think to have sensors up this high. After all, the palladium cores couldn’t get a suit anywhere near this height. He flickered between a dozen different feeds on his internal display: the news coverage of the gala, cameras inside and outside the hall, and two special mobile feeds courtesy of Pepper and Natalie. The ladies had signed on as assistants for Obi and Hammer, the men of the hour. Tony bided his time. Hammer had come in his Captain Hammer suit, which wasn’t too surprising. Every event was a chance to boost public opinion of Captain Hammer.  
Obi had finished grandstanding and was closing up his speech. “And in just a few minutes we’ll unveil the beginning of the new partnership between Stark International, represented by myself, and Hammer Tech, represented by the man himself, Captain Hammer! Justice has a name, and the name it has -besides justice- is Captain Hammer. Ladies and Gentlemen; your hero.”

  
And there he was. Swooping in through a window in a carefully timed display of midair acrobatics: Justin Hammer. Tony gave orders to JARVIS to start calculating sedative amounts for the armed guards patrolling the perimeter. Hammer started in on a bumbling speech about how much Steve meant to him and their shared vision of saving the homeless with a single shelter. Tony made quick, quiet swoops around the building and let JARVIS auto-target each guard with their own individualized sedative dart. Then, Tony turned to the communications relay. It only took a moment to stop all internal communication, but allow the external broadcasts to continue. It was finally time.

  
Tony cut the lights and flew in through the same window Hammer had and stealthily secured himself to a patch of ceiling. It turns out, even when your arch enemy can fly, you won’t look up unless encouraged. Tony had arranged for his voice to project through the speakers in the room, changing locations at random.

  
“Lights!” cried Hammer. “I don’t care what stopped them, start them back up. Now.”

  
“Hey, Jay,” Called Tony, “What do Captain Hammer and a burnt out light bulb have in common?... One is just as dim as the other. I worked on that one, you know.”

  
“Is that Iron Man I hear? I don’t recall sending you an invite, buddy. How about you turn these lights back on and I’ll show you on out?”

  
“What? Now? But I heard this was the place for big unveilings. And I have so much to share tonight. JARVIS, let’s give them a show.” Tony pulled the large gun off of his back, and with his enhanced targeting display, picked Hammer out in the dark. The gun let off a brief whine as it charged, then Tony fired on Hammer. Rather than bullets, a blue light shot from the device.

  
“What the hell was that? Hey, Tin Man? What the hell was it?!” Hammer raised his palm toward the spot on the dark that the shot had come from and let loose a hail of bullets. Tony had already slipped away from that location, and now he was close enough to watch his invention work. Ice was quickly spreading up and over Hammer’s suit. Tony had had the freeze ray plans in his head for quite some time, but only built a working prototype the day before, because how often do you actually need a freeze ray if you aren’t a winter themed villain?

  
“It was something new,” Tony said, sending his voice through a speaker in the well away from the civilians, in case Hammer got trigger happy again. “New and virtually harmless to you. It’s just going to slow you down for a bit.” The ice was creeping up Hammer’s neck now. Tony felt it was safe to gloat just a little. “Unless you already fixed the icing problem, of course…”

  
“Icing problem?” Hammer whispered as the ice crept over his face and his suit dimmed and died. Gloating over, Tony gave himself 5 minutes to turn Hammer’s life into a ruin before Jay worked his way out of the ice. Unfortunately, Hammer was fairly bright, when he had to be. If he couldn’t cheat, he’d still get results eventually, just a little slower.

  
The lights came back on, one by one, and the crowd could see Hammer’s immobilized form. Tony pulled a video up on every display in the room, from the projector screens to the cell phones of the attendees. Everyone could have a front row seat for this little montage. The attendees and viewers at home were witness to Hammer’s best of the best blooper reel. Every laboratory failure, every crippled intern, every shady deal caught on film, it was all laid bare.

Stane attempted to sneak off, but Pepper stopped him, blocking his path with attitude more than any physical bulk.  
The video played out to its end and every person in the audience was clamoring and fearful. Their hero had been revealed for what he was: a villain. Obadiah pushed pepper out of the way and mounted the stage once more. “This video is a joke!” he yelled to the audience. “Of course Iron Man made a fake video about Hammer. Iron Man is a villain and a coward.”

  
“Oh, Obi. I am a villain. A villain of your own creation. And I’m so happy you’ve taken the stage, because your video is next.” Tony pulled up the video of his own ransom in Afghanistan. Or rather, what he thought was demanding a ransom. He had helpfully translated for the audience, who watched in horror as Ten Rings terrorists attempted to extort more money from Obi to have Tony killed. The video continued to Obi welcoming Tony back home. As much as it had hurt to add that bit, to see himself beaten and broken and cowering into Obi’s sheltering arms, it was a real gut wrencher. It was more necessary than any number of back door weapons deals, though Tony fit some of those in, too.  
And if Stane had just denied everything, the majority of the public would have believed him. But Tony had always known Stane for a coward and had banked on it tonight. Stane panicked and tried to run. He back-handed Pepper when she blocked him again, but when she went down, Nat came up. It was over nearly before it had begun. In a fluid- and possibly illegal- jump, kick, turn of the hip movement, Nat had Stane unconscious on the floor with a few broken ribs and a likely concussion. He would live, but he wasn’t causing trouble right now, which was all Tony cared about.

  
Too late, Tony realized his attention had been off of the Hammer-cicle for too long. Tony had always planned for Hammer to escape. But then they were supposed to go on a rousing chase and have an epic battle well away from where they were. Tony had no desire for civilian casualties, hence the sedatives and freeze ray. But such are the best laid plans of mice and men.

  
Hammer had thought of a way out of the ice, but unlike all the methods Tony thought Hammer would use, Hammer decided not to melt the solid ice, but rather, to blow it up. It was definitely faster, but it was dangerous enough that Tony never thought Hammer would do it. The ice flew in large, sharp shards, propelled by an explosion Hammer managed to manually trigger from the inside of his suit. Tony was battered, but safe, as was Hammer. But Pepper, Nat, Steve, every civilian, and even Stane were all in a perilous line of fire. Tony launched himself over the panicking and stampeding crowd. Screams echoed through the room and Hammer launched himself at Tony. Before he did, though, Tony saw Steve, crumpled and unmoving behind a busted banquet table.

  
Tony lost all pretense of control. He slammed the maximum safe power directly into his arc reactor and blasted a laser straight through Hammer and his second rate armor. Problem goddamn solved. The crowd froze for a brief moment, then fled in a much more accurate terror out the main doors. Tony dropped in front of Steve. Who, this close, was quite obviously impaled with a large spear of ice straight through his stomach. Blood pooled on the floor. JARVIS was flashing vitals onto Tony’s display. None of them were good. Steve’s eyes were listless and heavy lidded, going into shock as he bled out. JARVIS managed to filter some of the blood Tony was kneeling in through Tony’s blood analyzer, standard issue for a man who had been dying of Paladium poisoning. There were already traces of bacteria consistent with sepsis; Steve’s organs were shredded from the ice shard. Even if Tony flew Steve to a hospital right now, it was too late.

  
“I’m sorry, sir” JARVIS’s voice echoed through the helmet.

  
Tony retracted his face plate and leaned close to Steve.

  
“Hey, Steve. It’s Tony. I’m here,” Tony soothed, knowing there was nothing he could do, and also knowing exactly what someone needs as they stare down death. Tony had been there, and he had faced it in silence, alone. Tony had lived, but he didn’t give a damn right now. He just knew Steve couldn’t be allowed to face that foe alone and in silence.

  
“Tony,” Steve gasped, “You’re okay? Blood…” Steve pawed weakly at his own blood, bright on Tony’s silver armor.

  
“Yeah, I’m fine. We’re fine.” Tony pulled off a gauntlet and grabbed Steve’s hand. Steve clung weakly in return.

  
“Jay…” Steve choked out. Tony started to panic. His lungs didn’t seem to want to expand. He couldn’t push a lie out, nor could he tell the truth. He was struck dumb, staring into Steve’s hazy blue eyes.

  
“You’re safe, now,” JARVIS’s voice echoed through every speaker still functioning, a lightly cascading cacophony of reassurance, both for Steve and for Tony. Tony’s lungs expanded sharply. Tony still couldn’t force out anything that Steve needed to hear, but JARVIS had covered it. Steve’s face had smoothed. His worries seemed to have lifted.

  
“Jay will save us…” Steve whispered, hand going slack as he slipped from consciousness.

  
Tony stayed there. Ignoring the monitors JARVIS displayed as they went dormant, one after another. First, the audio of his breathing went flat, then his pulse, then his temperature leveled out to room temp. But if Tony was holding his hand, Steve was still with him. He knew it wasn’t logical, but he couldn’t let go.  
Sometime later, he felt fingers gently prying his hand away from Steve’s. He brushed the fingers away. They returned, so he shoved the interloper with his free hand. Still they came back. Now he was starting to hear them as well. Quick, sobbing breaths, hitching near his ear. His name. She was calling him. He turned his head stiffly away from Steve without letting go. There was Pepper. Her favorite Prada suit destroyed, a monstrous bruise blooming over her face.

  
“T-Tony,” She hiccoughed, “So h-help me, Tony, if you do not l-leave I will slap you into next week. Get up. Get up!”  
And then she slapped him. The world sharpened back into focus. It still didn’t make sense. Nothing was fitting together right, but it was real. And Steve was gone. Tony dropped Steve’s hand and choked down the keening wail that was building in his chest, lodging in his throat. Tony jerked to a stand, Pepper clung to his arm. “Hold on,” he told her hollowly, “I’ll have us out of here in a second.”

  
“Tony, no. I-I have to stay here.” Pepper took a deep, shuddering breath and wrestled herself back under control. “You can’t be here when the cops come. I have to be here. You have to go.”

  
The simple sentences trickled through and Tony took her at her word. “Take care of him?”

  
“I will,” she assured him as she pressed his discarded gauntlet back into his hand.  
Tony nodded and took off, trusting JARVIS to get them home safe.

***

  
Tony drifted through the next month. As Tony Stark, he reclaimed his company after Obadiah’s tragic suicide. He finally announced the end of weapon manufacturing for his company. He forced the final merger papers through for Hammer Tech. If he owned the company, he could audit every section until he found where Justin had been keeping everyone else’s dirty secrets. This sort of scum tended to know others of their kind. And low and behold, Tony found his first file on Roxxon Oil. Target acquired.

  
To mitigate the end of the weapons era, Tony started mass production of Vibranium and Paladium for arc reactors. Pepper fielded as much of the chaos as she could, which was more than she should have to. Nat had turned in her two week’s notice, stating that she had only stayed around for Pepper, not wanting to leave her alone in a hostile environment. Now that she was no longer needed, she was moving on. Tony didn’t think her lingering glances on Pepper were entirely innocent. He expected her to turn up again like a particularly shiny bad penny. But he didn’t know if he could stand to see them so happy right now.

  
Tony had made Steve’s shelter the primary focus of the Maria Stark Foundation for the year and was authorizing hiring campaigns focusing on getting the homeless employed. It was all going to plan. And Tony felt nothing.  
In the dark of night, Tony was Iron Man. He schemed, he plotted. He even whipped up a new suit for Pepper, in case she ever lost her temper: The Iron Maiden. He was pretty confident she would need the stress relief of villainy sooner rather than later. It had taken almost a week for Tony to be able to even enter his lab. For some reason, he couldn’t face the thought of the bots sitting there with an extra smoothie, waiting for Steve.

  
But life goes on. Iron Man staged major coups against Roxxon Oil and Ivan Venka, as well as destroying many Stark weapon caches owned by the Ten Rings. With his new suit and reactor, it was nothing to zip around the world and back on a free evening. All the while, Tony was waiting. Then the G-Man finally came, just like Tony expected. And Tony felt nothing.

  
He wore his newest suit, remodeled in a gold alloy and hot rod red. He snatched up his offering for The Spy in a gaudy paper gift bag overflowing with tissue paper and followed G-Man to a nondescript car, that went to a nondescript home with a nondescript basement that hid an honest to God secret lair. Tony was led into a conference room. G-Man took a seat next to the man Tony presumed was The Spy, and who Tony recognized from bits of redacted files as Nick Fury. The three of them were alone. Tony slid his gift bag under the table and seated himself in a surprisingly sturdy chair that hardly creaked under the weight of his suit.

  
“Mr. Stark, glad you could make it. I would introduce myself, but you already know who I am,” said The Spy.

  
“Hello, Nick,” Tony replied.

  
Nick indicated G-Man. “This is Coulson. He’s our man on the inside. So I swear if you damage him, I will take it out of your hide, with interest. Now, we have some forms for you to sign.”

  
"Of course. Agent Agent, the Double Agent. Who else would you want on the inside?" Tony asked, final pieces all slotting into place. As annoying as it is to be joining a boy band as his age, it definitely looked like Nick would have the resources and connections Tony had expected.

  
An hour later, Tony rested his cramping hand.

  
“It’s all in order, sir,” Coulson told Fury.

“Should I start bringing them in?”

  
“Go get them ready. Just give me a minute alone with Stark before you send the lot of them in.”

  
Coulson nodded and gathered the piles of paper before leaving.

  
“I knew he had to be government from the suit, but with all those papers, he must be in a very special branch,” Tony said.

  
“You’re in, now, Tony. You can stop fishing for info and just ask. I might not always answer, but I try to be a transparent as possible with my little group. I was reminded recently that an intelligence agency that fears intelligence is historically not good,” said Fury.

  
“Sage advice. So are you guys an intelligence agency?”

  
“Of a sort. We’re more adaptive, more autonomous then your standard agency.”

  
“Are you an evil S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

  
“No, you know better.”

  
“Right, S.H.I.E.L.D. is an evil S.H.I.E.L.D. Are you good guys?”

  
“Not to everyone and not all the time. We’re S.W.O.R.D. We’re what S.H.I.E.L.D. was supposed to be, before it all went wrong.”

  
“Went did it all go wrong?”

  
“After operation Paperclip brought over and rewarded HYDRA agents.”

  
“Didn’t that happen like a year after S.H.I.E.L.D. was founded?”

  
“Unfortunately, yes.”

  
“Awesome. Who’s on the team?”

  
“We’ll start introductions now, then. Some you know, some you don’t. Let’s start with the new faces.”

  
“Cruel of you, but okay.”

  
Fury leaned forward and pressed the intercom button on the conference table. “Bring in The Hulk.”

  
A slight man in rumpled clothes and glasses with a distinct eau du marijuana wandered through the door. “Hey,” he said, “I’m Bruce. I’m the guy for all things Gamma and most things biological.”

  
“Bruce… Banner?” Tony asked.

  
“Yeah.”

  
“Bruce Banner. Nuclear physicist and creator of the Gamma Bomb?”

  
“Yeah, that’s the one. And you are?”

  
“Tony Stark.”

  
“Stark International?”

  
“Yep.”

  
“A.I., big guns, and the arc reactor?”

  
“You got it. And wait till you see the press release for the last one. It comes out next Monday. World changing stuff.”

  
Bruce nodded and settled in a chair, idly swiveling from side to side.

  
“He failed to mention he can also turn into a giant green rage monster, but otherwise, good introduction, Bruce,” Fury half-heartedly encouraged. “Send Thor and Loki in next,” Fury said into the intercom.

  
The door burst open before Fury could even remove his finger from the button. Tony resolved himself to stop being surprised as two of the palest and most gorgeous men to ever escape a Renaissance Faire entered the room. They had honest to God capes. Or perhaps cloaks. The absolutely built blonde one threw himself in a chair and grabbed an apple off of the possibly decorative fruit basket on the conference table. “I am Thor Odinson, Prince of Asgard,” he boomed. Then he chomped the apple almost in half and began chewing noisily.

  
The taller, darker, scarier one strode to a chair as far from Thor as possible and sat gracefully. “I am the idiot’s adopted brother. I am Loki Laufeyson, Prince of Jottenheim.”

  
Tony rubbed his temples and tried to convince himself he was really awake. “Thor and Loki… the Norse Gods?”

  
“As best as we can tell, yeah,” confirmed Fury.

  
“Isn’t Loki supposed to be evil?” Tony asked.

  
“We think he is. He was plotting to rule Asgard after he learned he was adopted but ended up accidentally helping Thor meet his one true love, which pissed Loki off to no end. We came in during a big battle and S.H.I.E.L.D. was trying to catch Loki. We managed to get Black Widow to talk to him, sort of. And she did a bit of impromptu family counseling. Loki agreed to allow his adopted mother back on the throne as long as she had final say over King Odin. The King agreed to hold the throne until Thor was truly ready. Thor agreed to take the throne if Loki could have one too. Loki agreed to rule Jotunheim if Thor stayed exiled until he was a decent ruler. Thor agreed to stay exiled as long as he could marry his girl Jane. Odin vetoed, but the Queen agreed for him as long as Loki oversaw the courtship. And we agreed to host them and keep them somewhat entertained,” Fury explained.

“Barton,” Fury barked into the receiver.

  
A man with truly splendid biceps ambled in and sat to Tony’s left.

  
“I’m Clint. I’m very, very, scarily good with arrows. That’s about it. I’m the tiny dash of sanity Fury tossed into the mix."

  
“Oh. I’m Tony Stark. I could probably make you a better bow and arrows.”

  
“I’m taking that as either a direct insult to my beautiful Jane, which means I’ll have to stalk you through the vents and kill you in your sleep, or a sincere offer, in which case we’ll be bros.”

  
“Second one.”

  
“Cool. Fist bump?”

  
“Kay.”

  
“Good enough, Fury declared. Three left other than Coulson. You know them all. Widow is next.”

  
Without a need for an intercom, Black Widow prowled into the room. Tony couldn’t muster up surprise at seeing Natalie Rushman.

  
“Hey, Nat. Based on your heavily, heavily redacted files, I’m guessing your name is actually Natalia Romanova. Now that I know one of your deep dark secrets, will you please call Pepper? She’s been moping.”

  
“Sure. I was already planning to.”

  
“Could you also teach me that hip thing you did to Stane?"

  
“I can try.”

  
“Alright," Fury said, "and now for the reason you only had to sign the basic forms-“

  
“There were over a hundred pages!”

  
“And only had a cursory interview-“

  
“There was no interview, you stuffed a note in my fridge, unprompted-“

  
“Jay.” Tony tensed tight as a bowstring.

  
“Hello, sir.” JARVIS said from every speaker all at once, as had become his habit lately.

  
“You-“

  
“I apologize, sir. I had to take initiative. You were far too obsessed with little result, so I delved into research to help you. It all led me here.”

  
After a few deep breaths, Tony began, “JARVIS-“

  
Clint chimed in, “Your name is JARVIS? No wonder you went by J.”

  
“-what the hell made you think I was obsessed with the Evil League of Evil?”

  
“Oh, Christ, you sent that song in? God, we are bros. Evil League of Evil!” Clint cackled.

  
“Sir, you’ll understand in just a moment.” JARVIS reassured. “You entrusted me with free will, sir. Trust me with this as well,” JARVIS continued quietly in Tony’s earpiece.

  
“Last one,” said Fury.

  
The door opened and revealed an eerily familiar man in an old fashioned Captain America costume. Tony was backed against a wall before he knew he had moved. The man slipped his cowl off.  
“Hey, Tony. I heard you got my shield. Anything left of it?” asked Steve.

  
Again without thinking, Tony’s body moved, this time he launched himself right over the table, armor and all. In a heap on the floor, Tony burrowed into Steve’s chest, verifying with every sense he could that this was really Steve. He looked right, sounded right, even smelled right when Tony retracted his helmet.  
“JARVIS?” He asked, shakily. “What the hell?”

  
“He did die, sir. It was not a trick or a gambit. He died. But Loki has ways of returning those lost before their time. Captain Rogers is a warrior above all, so Valhalla had a claim on him. Loki traded his scepter to his daughter, Hel, for Steve’s soul. Loki’s mother healed Steve’s body, and reunited flesh and soul. Or so I’m told. Asgard is not fond of technology. Or communication. Or peer review. He’s real.”

  
“You- Your last words- You said Jay would save us.” Tony said, clutching the unfamiliar material of Captain America’s uniform, wishing it was one of Steve’s hideous flannel shirts.

  
“J… JARVIS. He’s been saving my bacon for months now. I- uh, sort of accidentally broke into your evil lab. It’s a long story-“

  
“And I’m listening. Tell it. Now. Raised by Amish nuns, my ass. If you figured our time travel and didn’t tell me-“

  
“Only time travel I know is the long way around. Minute by minute. Hour by hour.” Steve tried to get up, but Tony settled himself more firmly, ear pressed to Steve’s chest to count his heartbeat. And with the extra weight of the suit, Steve stopped struggling and just resolved to not look at Fury, or anyone else.

  
“I was in a plane full of bombs, flying over the Atlantic. I had just beaten Red Skull, but I had to crash the plan before I was too close to New York and the bombs could actually hurt someone. I crash landed the ship and I… I don’t know. Bruce said the super soldier serum probably made me so resilient that I can cryogenically freeze myself in low temperatures. Must only be really low temperatures, because eventually, I woke up. It was a brisk swim to any kind of shore. Bruce supposes global warming thawed me just enough to wake up. I wandered out and just kept wandering. I didn’t realize how long I had been asleep until I found a town. Everything was wrong. I stole some food and clothes and just kept walking. Eventually I started to actually go in the villages I passed. I took odd jobs and when I reached harbor, I paid for a ticket to New York. It was even worse here. Nothing was familiar after we passed Lady Liberty. I became a homeless veteran.

  
“I wandered through Brooklyn until I found my old place. I broke in and my apartment had be turned into some crazy science fiction scene, along with every other room on that floor. It was even worse than everywhere else I had seen. There were even actual robots rolling around. I was panicking. No one was there, but then I heard a voice. JARVIS talked me through my panic attack and helped me make it look like I hadn’t broken in. He had me take one of your spare phones so he could talk to me. He told me you’d never miss it. He was my only touchstone. And even after everything else I had seen, A.I. was such a foreign concept that I couldn’t even find it in me to freak out anymore.

  
“I got my act together. And then S.H.I.E.L.D. found my ship. I was constantly thinking they were going to find me next. Track me somehow, with satellites or something else I hadn't even heard of yet. I died for my county once, and I would do it again, but I wanted nothing to do with the wars we’re fighting now. I just wanted some time and a cause worth fighting for. Then you and Fury started tailing me days apart from each other. JARVIS was the only reason I didn’t stuff you in the washer that first week, Tony.

  
“Then JARVIS started telling me about S.W.O.R.D., and it sounded like something I could really get behind. We decided to take down S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside. Coulson was constantly behind the scenes there. He got Natasha a job. She started managing things in Stark Industries. The plan was to get me into the Avengers to take them all down. Natasha was going to set me up with Hammer and then I would save him from something, probably you, and we would bring Captain America back. A big to-do over the whole secret identity reveal and Natasha could help me take over S.H.I.E.L.D. from the inside."

  
"But then," Fury interrupted, "some jackass blew a hole through our number one plan to subvert S.H.I.E.L.D. Still, we think we can take it down just a little slower from the outside than from the inside now that Tony Stark is back at Stark Industries and the Avengers were bankrolled directly through your company."

  
Tony lounges on top of his zombie national icon and considered his situation. Steve gave it about a minute and then rolled Tony off of him.

  
"Hey, Clint, kick that gift bag my way?" Tony asked. Clint obligingly kicked the large, gaudy paper bag, cussing up a storm as the unexpected weight of it nearly broke a toe. Regardless, the bag slid far enough under the conference table for Tony to snag it and fling it at Steve.

  
"The gift tag says 'To: The Spy,'" Steve announced.

  
"Yeah, ignore that," Tony prompted. "I'll get him a pony or something instead. Open it!"

  
Steve pulled the tissue paper out of the way to reveal his shield, whole again, recently repainted, and with some new updates if the buttons hidden along the grip were any indication.

  
"Why did you fix it?" Steve asked.

  
"Well, I was informed a couple times that it was a national treasure I was defacing. And no one seemed to be listening when I told them that the shield wasn't the treasure, the man who held it was. Now that I've met the man, I think I might need to try my hand at defacing a real national treasure. Care to join me?"

  
"What an egg," Steve groaned.

  
"Was that a no?"

  
"No. I am apparently absolutely dizzy over you."

  
"I'll assume that's something good. They don't know it yet, but you just made some meddlesome bots very happy."

  
"I will alert DUM-E to start the romantic evening protocol," JARVIS declared over the speakers.

  
"No. No more Motor-oil and mango smoothies. I can't do it, JARVIS."

  
Steve collected his shield and lifted Tony up like he wasn't wearing a 500 pound death mech. "I am almost certain I don't know what I'm getting into, but why don't we head back to your place for smoothies."

  
"Don't you dare 'An Officer and a Gentleman' me," Tony said.

  
"I have no idea what you're talking about," said Steve as he carried Tony from the room, "An Officer and a Gentleman" style. Thor stood from his seat and cheered loudly while weeping manfully.

  
"Damn that lovey dovey shit is gonna get old," Clint groused nursing his sore foot. All the S.W.O.R.D. members at the table nodded solemnly.

  
~ Fin ~

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Sorry if the ending seemed a little blah, but I had to wrap it up quickly. Also sorry if the formatting doesn't turn out right; I did it on my phone during a loooooong drive.


End file.
